


Five Times Coulson Didn't Kiss Skye (And One He Did)

by zauberer_sirin



Series: Five Times They Didn't Kiss Each Other [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Coulson in denial, Coulson is such an unreliable narrator, Coulson's pov, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fantasizing, Future Fic, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, playing with the canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes he thinks about kissing her, but it's not like that means anything</i>.</p><p>Or, Phil Coulson's developing relationship with Denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Coulson Didn't Kiss Skye (And One He Did)

 

**1**

It catches him by surprise, the first time. He was not expecting it.

The first time he thinks about kissing Skye he looks upon it with curiosity; it's puzzling and a little bit mortifying.

She's in his office, giving him a quick (very quick) update on the situation with Amador. He's tense but wound down from his fight with May. To be honest, he's not sure he's making the right choice here – but it's also the only choice he knows how to make.

Skye is still here, hasn't turned and walked away; despite her fine work with the video feed Coulson can see she's still quite shaken by the events of the day. There's a bruise on her left cheek. Coulson feels a pang of guilt. Then he's a bit distracted, quietly enjoying her presence in his office, finding it strange to see her study his collection of vintage objects, like it exposes him. She's still talking.

"And you value me." He catches the subtle change in her tone and he looks at her. "You're the first person to do that in a long time."

He knows she means it, he's good at reading people, it used to be his speciality: a girl like Skye, she couldn't have had that many people put their faith in her. He knows very few facts about her past but from what he's heard from her and what he can deduce –her unmistakeable combination of bravado and insecurity– the picture is pretty clear.

Coulson tells himself this is why; he feels sympathy.

The idea is vague, quite innocent if you think about it: he can see himself getting up from his chair and walking to Skye, holding out a hand to her bruised cheek, tenderly. He would move slowly, leaving her space to maneuver out of it she wants. In his mind she doesn't move away – she opens her mouth in slight surprise under his and her mouth is warm and new. He stops the idea there, right there.

It surprises him. Skye is _just a kid_. He wouldn't think of her that way. He just wants to find a way to convince her she's worth something, even if it's only in his eyes, and the inappropriate gesture just flashed across his thoughts as an option.

Also, he thinks he is grateful for her words of encouragement.

With her around Coulson feels supported. She's defended his decision to trust Amador tooth and nail, even though it would be natural for her not to. She seems to trust him implicitly from the beginning, even before she had any reason to do so.

"If you think this woman deserves a second chance, we should give it to her..." she is saying.

He has known her for such a short time and yet she manages to say the exact thing he needs to hear _every time_ , like she can read him so easily. He knows it's not that, she's not sucking up to him, that's not in her nature, every word is offered genuinely. There's such an open earnest affection in the girl that it takes Coulson aback, he's never exactly met someone who treats him like this. He doesn't know what to do with it.

For a moment in here he honestly wants to kiss her.

He only feels guilty about it in an abstract sense because, _how old is she again?_ He's a good boss, a decent guy, it's nothing like that, and Coulson is not going to do anything with the impulse. He knows the impulse is a lie.

Here's the thing: he knows it means nothing. And it's natural between teammates, the bonds you form in dangerous situations. It would be bizarre if this kind of thing didn't happen. And it happens to _everybody_. For example back in the day, before they became friends, he remembers thinking about May like that for about a few hours and May would probably kill him if she knew. It happens, Coulson tells himself. Hell, he'll even think about kissing Ward if he's having a particularly boring day. There are many reasons for this sort of thing and none of them has to do with real desire. It's just a side effect of working closely with people, even a Level 1 knows this. You think about it once and then you forget it forever, that's how this line of work goes.

It's just that he wasn't expecting it would happen with Skye.

He will think about it _once_ and then forget it forever.

He's not worried.

 

 

(it still means _nothing_ when it happens again, hours later, and he's sitting –lounging more like it– in the back seat of the SUV with her and Skye is telling him stories about homeless people breaking into her van and she's _making him smile_ and Coulson could just reach over, lean and place one quick kiss on the corner of her grinning mouth and it means nothing, for sure, why would it)

 

 

 

 

 

**2**

He shouldn't be thinking about it right now. Not right now. It's presposterous, she's just betrayed him, betrayed the whole team. He's angry, this close to being done with her, this close to kicking her off the plane like he did with Miles Lydon (that felt good, more than it should have), drop her in the middle of Asia and forget about the whole thing. He hasn't invested that much in her yet, if he thinks about it. Really, he's only known her for a short time, it shouldn't feel like such a loss.

(it does, and his chest contracts with something other than anger and righteous indignation)

But then she tells him. What she is doing here on this plane.

All this time she kept secrets Skye wasn't been malicious, she was being brave.

(he wishes she could have trusted him with it)

Coulson's anger and sense of betrayal melt into something else. He stares at the screen, these shreds of information the only thing Skye has for identity, for family, for destination. This, this explains so much. He swallows. For a second he forgets what she's done, goes back to all those moments when he has just wished the world for this girl. It only lasts a moment and a measure of the anger comes back, but it's already too diluted with everything else he's feeling.

"No matter what you do, I'll never stop looking," she tells him, and he wonders how she manages to make it sound defiant when he knows how scared and helpless she must feel right now.

"You might not like what you find."

She swallows, tears in her throat. "It can't be worse than what I've imagined."

Coulson can see the girl's life stretched back as far as the first horrible thing she imagined had happened to her parents. He can see the years fuelling every hypotheses, every nightmare.

That's when it happens. And it shouldn't. He shouldn't be thinking about this. He shouldn't be thinking about kissing her. She's betrayed his trust, warned a suspect, obstructed their investigation.

But.

She looks so sad and hurt and aching for any glimmer of hope. She also looks utterly alone. Coulson imagines how many years she's been doing this, searching, searching, on her own, a girl and her laptop against the world. He wants to somehow make her _less alone_. It doesn't make any sense and he is pissed at her, that doesn't stop. But he also wants to take her face in his hands, stroke his thumb along her jaw, and kiss her long and soft and deep until she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that she doesn't have to do this on her own.

He doesn't do that, of course. It's a fleeting urge, it means nothing, it means Coulson is human and has empathy. It's a dangerous combination of anger and pity. He goes back to the world of practicalities.

Instead he says: "Maybe I can help."

There's the slightest hint of hope (and perhaps gratitude, which makes him feel a bit dizzy) in her eyes when she looks up at him. She looks at him a bit like she can't believe he's real.

And then he has to get away, out of here. He _has_ to.

He places the box with the bracelet in her hands (knows she can't refuse it) and he leaves.

He knows storming out of his own office is a bit strange, but he has to walk away, he has to leave before more of Skye's face and more of Skye's eyes and more of her loneliness and before fleeting urges turn out to be not so fleeting after all.

 

 

(he thinks it will stop after this, his stupid, meaningless fixation; she a traitor, a liar; the next morning he watches her tugging at the bracelet, rubbing the skin under it like it itches a bit, getting used to the feel – she catches him staring and her eyes cloud with shame for everything she's done, she looks away; he wants to stop her, press his mouth against the soreness of her wrist)

 

 

 

 

 

**3**

She's saved his life. It's that simple, really.

She saved his life. Not just in the conventional sense.

She found him; in more ways than one. He had been trapped in a nightmare and her voice cut through it like lightning. _Come back_ she said. And for better or worse Coulson has never been any good at saying _No_ to Skye, so he came back. What else was there to do? Darkness didn't have that much of a hold.

The rest of his team welcome him back, and their genuine affection overwhelms him. It's new, he's never had a life that felt like this. But that part is easy, easy as shaking Ward's hand and sending everybody back to work, easy because the rest of them have learned not to ask questions.

But Skye falls behind, waiting for everybody to clear the place before she approaches, waiting to be alone with him.

He wishes she wouldn't stay behind like this, like it's her birthright, or a cherised privilege, maybe.

He takes off her electronic bracelet. In all honesty he could have done this a long time ago. In all honesty he never stopped trusting her. He was, perhaps, waiting for a moment that meant something, so it wouldn't just be about ending her punishment. He takes her wrist in his hands and feels her smile echo through her body.

Then she looks at him, very focused, like she's afraid Coulson would vanish if she tears her eyes from him.

"Back in that room, did they learn anything?" she asks.

"No."

"Did you?" Her voice becomes a thin thread. "I heard what you were saying."

He wants to tell her everything. _Yearns_ , even. There's no one he'd rather unburden himself to; he feels comforted by the mere idea of Skye knowing. He doesn't want to have to lie to her. Not even white lies.

But she looks like she couldn't bear it right now, and truth be told neither could he.

Coulson watches her face as he lies to her – _they were just messing with my head..._ – and finds the look of her disconcerting. He's used to a particular version of Skye: hair down, youthful angles, simple clothes, a lot of plaid. With her hair like that, and those clothes, she almost looks like another person; like he could meet her tomorrow on the street, and they'd be complete strangers. She almost looks _possible_.

Then he remembers the way she rested her face against his chest and sobbed quietly for a while, back in that room, still holding on to his wrists like she was afraid he might slip between her fingers. Small hands, yet such a strong grip. He remembers muttering her name over and over until he could almost taste it. He remembers and she goes back to being Skye, despite the clothes and the hair, she goes back to being Skye and –

– and that's a problem. It's definitely a problem when Coulson imagines himself rushing to her, one arm around her waist, hiding his fear inside her, and it all goes a bit classic Hollywood in his mind, the embrace, there's no happy ending here but he's been _saved_ and even if he's the princess trapped in the tower in this scenario it doesn't matter, in his mind he kisses the girl with the certainty and finality of the moment just before final curtain and credits.

It's just a fantasy, this even more so than the previous ones. It doesn't mean he has the inclination. _It's Skye_ , it would be ridiculous.

He wants to kiss her because then he won't have to tell her the truth.

"But I appreciate your concern," he says instead, getting the words out quickly before he chokes on it.

He looks at her for a long time, has this unrealistic feeling that he doesn't ever want to stop looking at her. She doesn't let him out of her sight either, in case he disappears as a consequence. Coulson is happy not testing that theory for now.

They stay like that for a while.

 

 

( _she saved me, so it doesn't mean anything_ – he has many excuses, no, not excuses, _reasons_ , one for every time he thinks about kissing her: it doesn't mean anything, it's just because she used that silly nickname she has for him, it's just because she cares that he cares about a ridiculous walkie-talkie wristwatch, because she cares about everything, because she doesn't back down when he tells her to, because her jokes are as bad as his, because at the end of the day his clothes smell of her, because she doesn't know how to take his compliments and that just makes Coulson ache – see? everything has a rational explanation, these are the words he uses as protection, because the alternative is just too absurd)

 

 

 

 

 

**4**

He hasn't got used to her presence back in the plane just yet. He imagines none of them have. It's not like her recovery has been long (it hasn't, it has been unnaturally fast, but Coulson refuses to think about that right this moment) but it has been so traumatic that the team had become accustomed to the idea of Skye in a hospital bed, unmoving, as something broken and lost.

Her aliveness feels like a miracle (he hopes it's not a curse).

Well, she isn't lost and she is definitely not broken. But Coulson is also not expecting to find her here today, training, at first hour in the morning.

She's dusted off the punching bag and now she's going a few rounds outside the lab. When she hears him walk down the stairs she stops, hand flat on the bag, catching her breath. She seems to have been working hard. The reality of her healthy body, in front of him, wrong-foots him. He's been holding his breath for too many days.

"Hi, boss," she greets him. It's funny how she can make _boss_ sound more casual than professional.

"What are you doing here?"

It's early, but it looks like she's been up for a while. He wonders if she is sleeping well, if she has bad dreams. Worry darkens his mood for a moment, hoping Skye doesn't have such a hard time recovering from the experience as he did.

"I'm trying to get back into shape, so I can get back to work," she says. "Trying to get ready."

 _She's a fighter_ Coulson muses, and suspects nobody knows the extent of it, not even him.

"Shouldn't you be taking it easy?" He thinks about threatening to call Simmons, who would probably make Skye stay in her bunk for the next couple of years if only she could.

"I lost enough time," Skye says between her teeth.

He looks at her and still all he can see is her body in that basement. All he can see is her pale and soaked in her own blood, and remember his own useless trembling hands.

It's time to shake that image, though, because here she is: her small fists attacking the bag with determination and discipline (Ward would be proud). She has this wonderful look of concentration about her, like she can take on anything. Coulson tries to forget it was that hubris what made her go after Quinn alone. He concentrates on the rest: how she makes him feel like he himself could take on the world as long as she is by his side.

"Are you okay?"

She turns around to face him. Her smile could only be described at _benevolent_.

"You need to stop asking that question, you know," she tells him, gently but firmly.

He nods. He knows he has to stop doing that, realizes Skye doesn't need it, she's stronger than the team's attempts to use kid gloves with her. It's not easy for Coulson, letting go of the feeling of sickly worry in his stomach. It's not easy accepting she's back and ready for more of what almost cost her life. He'd rather not do that, he decides, he'd rather just hold her in his arms right now.

This time he argues it's wholly justified: she almost died, he almost lost her. It doesn't have to mean he actually wants to kiss her. He doesn't, of course he doesn't want to kiss her. It's just a brush-with-death sort of scenario.

Like all the other times he's (vaguely) thought about kissing her (there's been a few, he admits) it doesn't go too far. It doesn't get more sexual than his fingers pulling at her hair or his thumb tracing the line of her collarbone. Coulson is not a completely horrible person – he keeps his thoughts relatively tame. Even now, staring at her bare shoulders covered with a sheen of sweat. Okay, so probably he would go as far as to imagine himself leaning into her, kissing the curve of that shoulder and tasting the salt on her skin, but that's it.

"What? Am I doing it wrong?" she asks. He must have been staring at her. He shouldn't do that.

He saves it, and well, with a slight grin. "You drop your right shoulder a bit."

She looks down at her fisted hand.

"Thanks."

"Don't tire yourself out. That's an order."

She nods enthusiatically and goes back to punching.

He walks away.

He does that a lot.

 

 

(he keeps waiting for it to stop, these brief moments between them, these fancies – he can't call them anything else, it's not real, if it were real he'd like to do something about it and he doesn't, he doesn't)

 

 

 

 

 

**5**

This wasn't meant to be a combat op but then again May didn't look too bothered when the bullets started flying, she actually looked cheered up – she really does hate undercover. Skye loves it and Coulson is indifferent in that he hasn't done this in a long time. He kind of regrets his clothes are ruined by this point, this was one of those infiltrate-a-party operations, and everybody was wearing really great clothes.

They get separated from Ward and May, who have gone on the offensive while Skye keeps the painfully extracted information safe (he has to have a chat with her about her habit of hiding things in her bra, it's childish and distracting, and he's not sure it's entirely safe) while he – well, while he tries to keep up, maybe find a safe corner where they can both hide while he checks his wounds.

Fortunately the bad guy's mansion is huge (they always are) and his minions are very bad at geography (they always are) so they have some minutes of relative safety in the second floor, away from the sounds of shooting.

They find a utility closet that doesn't smell too much of deathly chemicals and they take a moment to rest and regroup. It's small and full of cleaning products but it'll have to do.

"You're hurt," she says, pointing at the red stain spreading under his jacket.

"It's fine."

He's been shot. Not so much shot as grazed. It's messy, but there's more blood than actual damage. He thought he looked good in these clothes, so it's a bit of a loss.

"It doesn't look great," Skye comments.

Trying to ascertain the extent of the injury he puts his hand to the bloodied patch. Skye stops him, grabbing his forearm.

"Let me. Simmons taught me how to do this, in case she wasn't on the field. She even told me to bring a mini-kit along."

She takes the undercover first aid kit from inside her undercover purse (she's calling everything _undercover_ tonight, she was really excited about it, Coulson is almost sorry to ruin that by getting shot) and holds it up to the light, with pride.

"Stay still," she instructs him.

She unbuttons his shirt with trembling fingers even though she tries to bluff through it. Coulson rests his hand on her shoulder, for encouragement, and because he feels a bit dizzy and needs something to hold on to. She takes a deep breath before rolling up his undershirt to uncover the wound above his hip. Coulson hisses where the fabric sticks to his blood. He can see Skye wincing at the sound.

"First we clean this..." she says, applying the desinfectant to the wound. He almost doesn't notice the sting because he's sort of fascinated by the movement of her hands over his stomach.

Coulson can't say he's completely neutral to the scene, with Skye practically undressing him, it's too intimate for him. Her thumb is resting over his hipbone for better access. Her hands are not cold but he finds himself shivering unexpectedly at the contact. Skye mutters an apology, tries very deliberatedly not to touch exposed skin as she presses the gauze to his side.

She gives the red-stained shirt a disappointed look.

"What a shame," she sighs. "You looked really good in this tux."

Coulson quirks an eyebrow at her, as superior-officer-ish as he can manage under the circumstances. He can't help but look down at her own attire, her dress, guiltily: like in a favorite film quote, she wears blue. He recovers promptly and glares at her.

"Relax, sir, I'm not flirting," she says, like it needs clearing up. "I'm trying to distract you."

He touches two fingertips to her wrist, sensing her distress; she's scared. "This is not the first time I've been shot, Skye."

"Well, it's the first time I have to take care of someone who's been shot. Let me practice my bedside manner. In case we have to repeat this."

He smiles down at her, a look of concentration (and thinly veiled concern) on her brow and she finishes applying a temporary dressing to the wound. They are a bit too close, Skye fitting under his chin as she works, her hair tickling his jaw.

This is not the moment (of all the moments this is _the least_ of the moments, what is wrong with him) but hell if Coulson doesn't want to grab her by the shoulders (naked shoulders, stupid dress) and push her against the door of the closet, bring his mouth down to hers, and kiss her rough and demanding, blood ringing in their ears, and the chemical rush of danger pushing through their veins. This time he –the fantasy– goes as far as to press his body into hers, that stupid, ridiculous undercover dress of hers barely stopping the contact and – and he's fucked, isn't he, completely fucked, how could he let this happen, how can his mind betray him like this and in such a situation.

He is too old for this – he's a seasoned agent, he's _her boss_ for fuck's sake, not a recruit on his first mission, when was the last time he got distracted like this _on the job_ , just because he's been shot and there's adrenaline rushing to his head and _Skye's hands_?

"Coulson? Are you sure you're fine?"

And he swears when his eyes focus on her again there's a moment when she looks at him like she also –

But that can't be. He rationalizes how stupid the whole situation is. He rationalizes and rationalizes and still it refuses to go away: he wants to kiss her.

He doesn't because, well, _middle of a mission_. Plus he's bleeding, and that sort of thing is not great for your decision-making skills. And he doesn't know if she'll even like that. Would Skye like that? He hasn't contemplated that until now. Hasn't let himself think about this seriously.

Well, he's thinking about this seriously, _right now_. But it could be the blood loss.

"I'm okay, let's go," he says, letting Skye put an arm under his shoulder to help him keep the balance.

They walk out of that damned room.

 

 

(later inside the Bus, after Simmons patches him up properly and leaves him resting in a chair in the lab Skye slips in to see how he's doing, " _Did I do a good job with that?_ " she says, coming up so close that Coulson is suddenly shy about his opened shirt, though at least she's out of that dress and back into Skye-like clothes, which should make it safer but it doesn't, and she says " _Don't ever get shot near me again, I'm not such a big fan of that. Or, just don't get shot in general, I'm not a fan of that either_ " and even though the tone is light Coulson can tell she's still a bit spooked, that she had been more scared than she let on – and yes, this is one more time it happens)

 

 

 

 

 

**6**

He's restless.

It's been two days since his team took down the Clairvoyant and the remnants of Centipede and Coulson feels restless. He should be elated with the possibility of some rest, the peace of (temporary) victory. It's been so many months of fighting. He should feel relieved and assured, not open-ended. He feels like he is ready for a change, but he has no earthly idea what that change can be.

So he starts with something simple. He's wearing a new suit. He's sort of earned it – they all have.

The team has a very important meeting to plan a vacation, which is nice. A change of pace. Coulson is looking forward to that, he hopes for somewhere in Europe.

Skye intercepts him in front of her bunk as he is walking down the stairs to join the rest. He pauses at her door.

"Morning, boss. Um, new suit? Nice."

She never really got around to saying _boss_ like it's something professional. He doesn't really want her to. She has her hair down, jeans, a plaid shirt. She's waiting for him to start walking again so they can go downstairs together. She does that, doesn't she. Coulson feels like he's just finding out.

The truth is–

Sometimes Coulson thinks about kissing Skye.

Like right now.

He's not sure what prompts it this time. Nothing, really. She's just here in front of him, fresh-faced and cheerful and _Skye_. This is no momentous occassion, there's been no big gesture on anyone's part. The truth is he doesn't have an excuse for it. He finally understands what that means.

He takes Skye in his hands, craddling her head between his palms. He offers the precise speed at which she can move away if she wants, the precise speed at which everything slows down because her face is suddenly too close, just before his mouth touches hers tentatively.

It's nothing like his fantasies.

He presses their faces together, more than kiss, closed-mouthed at first, then a little bit bolder. This side of chaste, still. Under his fingertips he feels the hair on the back of her neck, one of the million things that are distracting about the moment: how does one breathe while kissing, was her body always so small and solid, is he holding her too tight, does his new suit smell like her already because he kind of likes that.

He has, of course, wanted to do this from the beginning. He just never allowed himself to know he was doing it. He's been obstinate and a complete fool. It's himself he's been protecting, and not Skye.

She kisses him back a bit, he thinks, but in a stunned sort of way that makes Coulson believe maybe she's only doing it to be polite. He has no idea – it's all confusion and hesitation, so unlike the clean-cut safety of his fantasies.

So he lets her go, impatient to find out how she feels about all this.

He pats down his suit, readjusts the length of his tie. He waits for her to speak first.

Skye stares at him, mouth open. "Are you kidding me?"

He frowns. It's not so much the being rejected, it's the lack of form.

"Not the reaction I was hoping for," he says, voice flat. "Believe it or not, it has taken me a fair amount of thought to be able to do this."

That's as close to a confession he can manage at the moment, knowing that Skye is at least sensitive enough to respect that.

"Are you freaking _kidding_ me? You have to be kidding me."

Okay, he's annoyed now. "If I promise not to do it again... would you _please_ stop saying that?"

" _No_."

"No what?"

"Don't promise _that_ ," she says, very serious. Coulson blinks. She continues: "Couldn't you tell I've had the hugest crush on you since... well, since day one? You gave me a ride in a flying Corvette! I mean you'd have to be really blind to miss the ways I've been... But I thought you were totally uninterested. Plus you're my boss and mentor and you trust me, you really trust me. I didn't want to make things weird for you."

He wants to voice all the concerns he imagines she already has: that he is too old for her, that this is against the protocol, that it could ruin the team if it goes wrong. But seeing as he is the one who initiated this Coulson feels he has no right to protest. A part of him must have decided all that didn't matter, or didn't matter _enough_.

"Skye," he says, and finds himself drawing a long breath, finding that he likes the idea of saying her name for no good reason, trying it out to see if it sounds different now that he knows.

"Since when did you...?" she asks.

Coulson makes a non-committal gesture with his hands.

How does he answer a question like that? _A year_? _Five minutes ago_?

Skye seems to understand exactly what he means, though. She lets out a frustrated growl. "You mean I've been carrying a stupid torch for nothing, all this time? When I could have just grabbed you and –?"

She grabs his jacket and pulls him against her.

She kisses him.

Coulson has been thinking about kissing Skye for a long time. But in all his fantasies he never imagined this: that Skye might kiss him instead. She kisses him and that is so much better, her hands pressed flat against his chest, pressed carefully, like she doesn't want to disturb him, like she is thinking about his nice new suit and about the breakable man underneath it. Her mouth is careful too, letting him get used to the intensity of the emotions underlying her touch. Her kiss is bravado and insecurity; small, expressive sounds when he lets her tongue slip past his teeth.

He brushes his hands over her hips, a ghost touch, not daring to hold on to her just yet.

Skye pulls away, mouth grinning against his and then gone. She wants him to see her face. Joy. She looks joyful. _Did I just do that?_ He wants to do it again.

"I've been thinking about doing that for such a long – I mean, A.C. really, you have no idea," she tells him, in a sunny but private voice. What can Coulson do but listen to her, stunned?

He wants to tell her he knows the feeling quite well himself, but he's a bit too proud for that right now. He'll tell her later. There will be a _later_ , he realizes. There will be more of this.

He runs his fingers through her hair, Skye leaning into the touch like it's soothing and exciting at the same time.

He thinks about kissing her again.

 

 

(sometimes he thinks about kissing her,  
or maybe it's all the time)


End file.
